Catch22
by EmmaJ1996
Summary: If you have feelings for somebody, then any other relationship is doomed from the start. Harry has realised this...when will Nikki?
1. Chapter 1: Epiphany

_**Catch-22**_

"You are still coming, aren't you, Harry?" asked Leo, puzzled by Harry's seemingly complicated lunch arrangements for Easter.

"Of course. Just, well, you know, it is Easter, Leo. If there's one day that I should get a lie-in, it's one that's bookended with two bank holidays!" you state, with the beginnings of reasons why he could be late for Easter lunch.

"Ignore him. He's already tried giving that excuse to his mum to avoid lunch with her for the fourth year running. Somehow, following your mysterious cases of swine flu, appendicitis and a prolonged chest infection, I'm surprised that she hasn't sussed your game yet," retorted Nikki, leaving you slightly perturbed as to how she knows this information.

Of course, she speaks to your mother, so why wouldn't she know? Your mum loves Nikki, and besides, Nikki knows you just that well. A little too well for a friend, but hey. You're not exactly sure what you are anymore. For a long time now, you've been hanging in limbo, somewhere between best friends and a couple, but never definitively one or the other.

But, today, all you can be is friends. You're dating someone. (So is she. And that's as much detail as you have on that one.) But you've got Isabel. You haven't been together that long, but long enough that you've invited her to Leo's for lunch on Sunday. You're still not entirely sure why.

Still, you're pretty lucky you got her. You'd been waiting at the pub for Nikki, who was impeccably late as usual, when you got a text saying that she was on call, had an urgent case and could they do it another night. You'd figured as much, of course.

But Isabel. You don't even remember how you came to meet her. You know she was different from the other girls you pick up when you're drunk. For one, she looked older than 25. And in your hazy burbling, she remained undeterred by the fact that you were a pathologist. You weren't scared to tell her either. That's normally your second date ice breaker. And even then you find it difficult.

The next morning, she hadn't fled like every other one night stand. She didn't even sleep with you. You shared a bed, but that was all. You'd gone way past coherent to even think about sex. She made you some coffee, very strong coffee, you recall, and loaned you a couple of aspirin.

You took her out for dinner that night. To apologise for last night, to thank her for the morning after. Conversation with her at dinner was easy. He wasn't afraid of a lull in the conversation. The lull never actually came. You had a good night. Without alcohol, and without Nikki.

That was then. This is now. Two months later, in fact. She has listened to your endless stories about Nikki and Leo and the apparent lack of work that seems to get done. But today, she's meeting them both in the flesh. You don't know why you're nervous. You revert back to your teenage years; it feels like you're bringing a girl home to meet your parents.

But you're not related to Leo and Nikki. Not even close. Leo, yes, at times, can be like a father, reprimanding you, but generally, you're equals. And Nikki is...well...Nikki encompasses so much more than family to you. She's the sister you never had, the friend you never lost touch with, the girlfriend who never broke your heart.

And that's what frightens you most. The potential for Nikki to be your girlfriend. You really like Isabel; you don't have a problem with her. She's the epitome of a girlfriend. She should have the words "amazing catch" tattooed across her forehead. You don't find yourself thinking about Nikki when you're with her.

But when they meet. That's where it gets tricky. That's where the lines dividing Isabel and Nikki begin to blur. That's where the comparisons will begin. You know it's inevitable. The little things, you're noticing already, almost unconsciously. The fact that you took Nikki to the Khowloon Kitchen on your first date. The fact that the Khowloon Kitchen shut down. And the fact that the Khowloon Kitchen is now a lovely Italian restaurant called Marzoni's. The startling fact that you took Isabel to Marzoni's on your first date.

The difference in their laugh. Nikki's giggle warms your heart. Literally. You can feel it skip a beat under your sweater. Isabel's laugh is too harsh, it sounds too false. It sounds wrong.

The difference in their clothes. Nikki's butterfly tops and enormous collection of shoes never seem to be enough for her. Somewhere in her wardrobe is one of your sweaters. A rustic orange one. You know she took it because she was cold, once. But you never got it back. She actually dared to steal your sweater. It feels more like a confiscation now. She called it your "grandad jumper".

Isabel's style is more professional; she works in a bank and has a uniform. It suits her, but doesn't identify her, it just makes her more plain. She fits into a crowd. She isn't an individual; she doesn't own her clothing.

The difference in the films they watch. Nikki loves her romantic films, whether it be an old period movie (you've lost count of the number of times you've seen Wuthering Heights) or a corny movie that should really be illegal. You get the mental image of Nikki hitting you with the cushion for speaking against Patrick Swayze.

Whereas Isabel, likes action films. Something you find strange, even though you know she'd be more than happy to watch one of your war movies with you. With Isabel, you actually get to watch a film you like. But it's not the same. There is no satisfaction in it.

The same fact occurs to you again and again, on a loop in your mind.

Your relationship is great, there's no doubting that. Isabel does make you happy.

But you know those comparisons, small may they be, will get bigger.

No matter who you date, you'll always compare them to Nikki.

It will always be Nikki.

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><p><strong>Okay, so how was it? First multi-chap ever! Being really brave as my updating is awful. Hoping that uploading a fanfic I haven't actually finished yet will spur me into updating more often!<strong>

**Wanted to get this up before Easter, even though the actual Easter lunch is in the next (half unwritten) chapter. As a very avid fangirl, this will of course, result in Harry and Nikki - but when? (There's your mystery...)**

**Huge hugs go out to everyone who reviewed my last fic: tigpop, pinkswallowsun, rbs89, Lizziginne, Dieuwiekiwi, hopelesslyhalfhearted, deadfairies, Izzy, Charlotte88, dinabar, Whovi10, Thyqua, greyslostwho, SaintJacTheNazi and Cariad1987!**

**I'm a total review junkie...so make my day? (Please)**

**Will attempt to update soon (at least once a week), but if I don't, feel free to give me a "kick-up-the-backside" PM :)**

**Lots of love and rambling, **

**Em xox**

**PS/ HAPPY EARLY EASTER!**


	2. Chapter 2: Flour Power

_**Catch 22 – Chapter 2: Flour Power**_

"So why are you allowed to make something?" you moan, as Nikki begins stirring various ingredients into a saucepan.

"Because Leo trusts me," smiles Nikki, poking her tongue out at you, adding milk to her questionable concoction.

"So, what exactly are you making?" you ask, leaning across the table. You scoop a handful of flour out of its packet, and hide your hand behind your back. Slowly, you begin to creep up behind Nikki, who has her back to you. Resisting the urge to smell her hair, you rest your head over her shoulder as you scoff at the mixture simmering in the pan.

"May I help you?" asks Nikki, glaring at you, "Or are you just here to critique my handiwork? Now go away," she huffs, pushing at your chest lightly with both hands. You fail to ignore the feeling of her hands against your sweater-clad chest; you try in vain to ignore the want for her hands to stay there indefinitely.

"Well, I'd hardly call that handiwork. It looks like packet custard," you mock gently. Underneath your teasing, you're still slightly mad that you weren't asked to help in the kitchen. Not that you actually want to help, but it would have been courtesy to ask, at least. You had a whole collection of food puns ready, as well.

"It's not custard, Harry, it's a béchamel sauce," states Nikki smugly. It actually does smell pretty good. So, deciding to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face, you choose this exact moment to dowse Nikki with the flour that is still in your hand.

"HARRY!" she yells, the look on her face absolutely priceless, as she begins coughing out clouds of floury dust. "You git! This is a new dress!" she cries.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, it'll come out. I'll get the duster and you can clean yourself off," you sigh, turning your back on her momentarily. Suddenly, you feel a soft pelt against the back of your head. Turning around, you find yourself surrounded in a cloud of dust, with Nikki grinning wildly in front of you.

"Or maybe I just wanted to set you up for that," she smirks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with floury hands, scattering flecks of flour into her hair.

"Oh, you did not just do that," you warn her, making a dash for the bag of flour. She squeals and runs in the opposite direction, running away from you. Inevitably, a very infantile game of chase around the kitchen follows, the room filled with shrieks as you attempt to shower her in flour.

Nikki, finding herself with nothing to defend herself with, decides to make a sudden move for the bag of flour. Instantly realising her mistake, you find the look on her face comical as she finds herself entangled, as you reach out and grab her, securing your arms around her waist.

Unable to stop yourself from laughing, you both burst out laughing at that state of you. Covered in flour in a messy kitchen, you'd think hell had broken loose in a nursery school. Gradually, your laughter dies down, leaving you just staring into each other's' eyes.

"What on earth is going on in here?" exclaims Leo, shaking his head. You notice him briefly raise his eyebrows at the two of you up against each other, but this fades when you pull apart abruptly. "How old are you?" he questions, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"Younger than you," you retort, causing Nikki to giggle softly.

"Right, who started it?" sighs Leo exasperatedly, his tone sounding similar to that of a disgruntled parent.

"She did."

"He did," you reply simultaneously.

"Actually, I don't care who started it, just clear it up please, children. Or you'll have to face the wrath of Janet," states Leo, knowing that will fire you into action. As lovely as Janet is, and as much as he loves her, she can be pretty fierce at times.

"Well, I need to clear myself up before lunch. You can do it. Oh, and keep an eye on the sauce, will you?" smiles Nikki, patting you on the cheek with a flour coated hand, before skirting around you in the direction of the bathroom.

"That's not fair! Leo, will you tell her?" you groan, at the prospect of cleaning up, resembling a petulant child. Leo just smiles at you knowingly, before leaving the room at the sound of a doorbell.

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><p>"Yes, Isabel, it's lovely to meet you too!" exclaims Janet, giving her a warm hug. On hearing an unfamiliar voice coming from downstairs, you frown slightly. You figure that it must be Isabel, Harry's new girlfriend. You hate the way that sounds. She's his girlfriend. You splash your face quickly with cold water, before shaking any thoughts about Harry from your head.<p>

However, any chance of ignoring your feelings for Harry is shattered when you open the bathroom door, slamming straight into him. Glaring at him, you groan internally at the fact you are pressed up against him for the second time in as many minutes. You notice that he is still very floury.

"Nicola, we must stop meeting like this," he grins broadly.

"Maybe we should," you sigh softly, before making your way downstairs, leaving a very puzzled Harry standing at the top of the stairs.

You know that you should stop thinking about Harry like this. You've been with Ben for a while now. And just as Harry invited Isabel to lunch, you invited him. You should be happy. But you can't help comparing Ben to Harry. It's become an awful habit. You subconsciously jeopardise every relationship.

You know that one day you'll have to stop it. Because you can't hang on to the hope that Harry loves you. You know that he's happy. With her. Isabel.

And that's what hurts the most. He's happy. Without you.

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><p><strong>Okay, this was totally meant to be Harry's POV throughout, but somehow Nikki has a lot to say for herself. <strong>

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Lizziginne, dinabar, whitenessie, tigpop, pinkswallowsun, Inca Mystica, greyslostwho, Izzy and Dieuwiekiwi – massive hugs to you all **

**Not sure how much time I will have to write this at the moment…3 GCSEs down, 15 to go!**

**Please review…you know you want to…and it makes me write faster!**

**Love Em xxxx**


	3. Chapter 3: Are We Sitting Comfortably?

_**Catch 22: Chapter 3 – Are We Sitting Comfortably?**_

"Right, everyone, tuck in," smiles Janet warmly. You feel your mouth salivating at just the sight of food. It's like a real-life M&S ad.

"Janet, this all looks amazing. Thank you so much for this," gushes Isabel. You mumble an incoherent agreement as you fill your mouth with too much food, much to Nikki's chagrin who is sitting opposite you and having to watch you speed shovel roast potatoes into your mouth. You receive a kick on the shin as punishment.

You notice Ben taking his napkin off his lap momentarily to wipe away the tiny blob of gravy from the corner of Nikki's mouth. You wait for her to push him off gently, or mutter that she's not a baby, but to your horror, does nothing of the kind. Why should she? They're dating.

"Well, would you look at that, chivalry isn't dead," giggles Nikki, leaning into Ben to rest her head on his shoulder. You envy Ben's shoulder. You see her smiling at Ben. You can't take your eyes off her smiling.

And then you see it. Almost non-existent. A glint in her eye. An inkling. She pulls away from him ever so slightly as he puts his arm on the back of her chair. To the naked eye, you wouldn't even notice. But you do. Because you're staring at her. Actually, no, make that gazing. And then she does something you don't expect.

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><p>He's noticed. He's noticed the flinch. The smallest hint that you're not entirely satisfied. You wonder how he even noticed. But then you feel his gaze. Burning into you. Of course he'd notice. It's Harry. You drag your eyes up from your food slowly. You painstakingly turn your eyes to look at him. He looks almost surprised, but he holds your gaze. You feel like you're frozen in time. You can't seem to pull your eyes away – it's too difficult. You wonder who will break it first.<p>

"Nikki?" you hear Isabel's voice ground you, and suddenly you're dragged back into the conversation. Regrettably, you can't keep staring at Harry, staring at you. You look up at Leo with a blank face to find everyone else at the table staring at you.

"Sorry?" you ask, feeling slightly guilty that Isabel has presumably been talking to you for a while, but instead of listening, you are watching her boyfriend. Hang on, why are you in the wrong here? He's her boyfriend. So why was he watching you? His eyes should be on Isabel. Mind you, with that said, your eyes should be on Ben.

"Are you with us? I said, what's the worst thing about Harry? You've known him for a long time," laughed Isabel, rather bemused by your lack of focus. You really hope that she didn't notice you watching Harry watching you.

"Just one thing?" you ask, pretending to look confused by the question. Everyone at the table begins to laugh; you feel safe. The conversation is no longer awkward and Isabel seems satisfied by your answer. You glance briefly at Harry, who avoids your eyes, taking his fork and trying to feed Isabel a morsel of potato. You feel almost nauseous, until you feel Ben's arm around the back of your chair again. Instead of shifting in your seat again uncomfortably, you snuggle into his touch, determined to not let Harry ruin your evening. The second you look away from Harry, you feel his eyes slowly begin to burn into you again.

You ponder the worst thing about Harry. You can see the answer swimming around in your brain. It's always going to be the same answer. He's not with you. That's the worst thing about him. You see Leo watching you. He knows the answer too. He's known for a long time. But of course, you can't say that. So you lie.

"He can't cook," you laugh, "I don't think he's ever cooked us a meal, has he, Leo?" You desperately bring Leo into the conversation, in the hope that he sees your subtle aversion to the question, and deftly changes the subject.

"Hey! I will have you know, that I helped with the Belgium sauce. And it tastes pretty good," Harry states arrogantly.

"The what sauce?" Isabel asks, puzzled as everyone else.

"He means béchamel," answers Nikki, smirking.

"No, actually, I think you're right, Nikki. Harry doesn't ever cook. Turkish food doesn't count, Harry," says Leo, condescendingly.

"Turkish food? You like baklava?" asks Ben. You almost sense a hint of scorn in his voice.

"He means a kebab," replies Harry, coolly. This is the only interaction they have this evening. They don't speak to each other again. You're not sure whether to be relieved or to be irritated. They are both important to you. You want them to get along, don't you?

But then again, if they don't get along, you have an escape clause.

You suddenly have an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Here you are, your boyfriend is sitting next to you, with him arm around you, having finished eating, and you are thinking up reasons to break up with him.

You stand up, as Janet begins to clear away the empty plates. You need some space from this table. You begin to help clearing up the plates, and you take a small stack into the kitchen. You begin to start washing them up, ignoring the dishwasher for want of being away from the table for longer.

Janet puts the remainder of the plates in the sink for you to wash up. You have an unspoken understanding that you always do the dishes, and she then starts to plate up the pudding. Janet starts humming a hymn at this point, as she attempts to do a swirly pattern with the raspberry coulis. You find it comforting, like a lullaby.

"Do you have a cloth or something? I spilt some of the béchamel on my top," you hear Isabel say. You hear laughter resonating in your head, as her black silk blouse now has a large stain on it. Janet inspects the stain, before deciding it needs a bit more work than a J-cloth. She takes Isabel from the room, presumably in the direction of the bathroom.

No sooner has Isabel left the room, when Harry pokes his head around the door, with another plate in his hand. He grins lopsidedly, before handing you the plate. You roll your eyes at him, having just taken off the rubber gloves. He grabs a tea towel, before taking a plate and beginning to dry it, right next to you, his shoulder gently bumping yours. He's so close to you that you can smell the woody scent that is so distinctly Harry. As you finish washing the plate, you hand it back to him, so that he can dry it.

It seems such a domestic situation, so natural. You lean your head against his shoulder. He drops the tea towel, finishing the plate drying. He gently turns to look at you, careful not to jolt his shoulder in case it's the only thing supporting your head. He lightly presses a kiss to your forehead, leaving his lips against your temple for slightly longer than necessary.

"She's pretty," you murmur, so softly that you're not sure if he even hears you.

"So are you," he whispers back. You're not entirely sure why he felt the need to say that. You're not entirely sure for what purpose that was warranted. You're not sure what point he's trying to make. You're just not sure of anything right now. He's too close to you to actually think anything remotely coherent. All you know is that you need to stay near him right now.

When he turns to face you, and strokes a hand across your temple, coming to rest on your cheek, you can't pull away. You don't flinch like you did with Ben earlier. You close your eyes, sighing contentedly. Because no matter what you feel for Ben, when you're with Harry, it just feels…right.

As his hand leave your face, you open your eyes, unsure of what he's going to do next. You know what you'd like to happen, but for all you know, Harry could still pull away, break the moment. You might just be reading too much into this. He stroked your face; it's hardly a declaration of love.

But when he tugs your arm gently, but hard enough so that you are pulled flush against him, you realise that it is just that. A declaration of love. Implicit because neither of you actually have the courage to say it.

You look at each other momentarily. Pouring emotion into each other's eyes. But then it gets too much. You're both too intoxicated by the other to pull away. You're magnetic together. So you attract.

He kisses you. Or you kiss him. Either way, you're kissing each other.

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><p><strong>Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: charli-girl, tigpop, Beth, Izzy, pinkswallowsun, dinabar, whitenessie, Baibe, Lizziginne, greyslostwho, Cariad1987 and OmNomNom :)<strong>

**The response to this has been totally overwhelming! I am so thrilled, so thank you to my glorious Witness Army...you are my second family!**

**And only 2 more exams to go (finally), so should be able to update more often :)**

**Em xxx**

**PS/ One cheeky review? You know you want to. Just press the button...**


	4. Chapter 4: Say You Don't Want It

_**Catch 22: Chapter 4 - Say You Don't Want It**_

You try to wind your fingers into her hair, in an attempt to pull her closer, even though there is no distance between you; your body is flush against hers. Her grip on your shoulder is almost vice-like, but you're not entirely sure if she's pulling you closer or pushing you away.

But just as suddenly as you kissed her, you feel cold again, as she rips her mouth from yours, away from your touch, leaving a lingering feeling of emptiness inside you. The pained look her eyes floors you. You try to avoid all eye contact, petrified of the heavily charged atmosphere between you.

As if someone flipped a switch and all your unresolved feelings just came flooding back. But you know the way you feel about Nikki isn't as simple as turning a switch on or off. There's nothing black or white about how you would even begin to describe your feelings for Nikki.

"Oh God," she whispers, her voice barely audible through its hoarseness, as if she is struggling with her words. She runs a shaky hand through her hair, and begins to fiddle with her nails, shifting from one foot to the other. The atmosphere is off-balance, uneasy, and you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort her.

But of course, you can't. She has a boyfriend. She's somebody's girlfriend. Ben's, to be precise. At the thought of the word 'girlfriend', an overwhelming feeling of guilt washes over you. You remember. Isabel.

You forget sometimes how much has changed. How much you and Nikki have changed. Five years ago, you were both single, spending your time going to air shows, or playing poker with an equally single Leo. But when Leo found Janet, the dynamic shifted. You and Nikki became more independent, trusted with your own decisions, left to your own devices. The closer you became, the less likely it seemed you would become a couple.

It's been five years since you kissed her. It's one of those moments in your life that is defined by its simplicity, its clarity. In that moment, you wanted to kiss her, and despite all the ambiguity surrounding that moment, that's exactly what you did.

But Nikki changed. Following that diatribe about her destiny to be a prune, she changed herself. She became someone with a social life, someone who would kiss a guy she barely knew in the office car park, someone who would get so dressed up to meet firearms officers that you'd think she was going to a wedding. She left you behind, to put it bluntly. As her relationships got longer, yours became shorter. She moved on without you realising.

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><p>You're not entirely sure what to do now. You have so many questions swimming around in your head, it's difficult to judge which one would be the least awkward. Why did he kiss you? Well, you know why, but you haven't a clue why he's waited until now. He really picks his moments.<p>

You're with Ben, unavailable. The realisation that you've essentially cheated in your first honest relationship in years weighs on your conscience like a ton of bricks. When you first started dating Ben, you felt good in almost every fibre of your being. (You ignore that miniscule part of you that felt the need to add the word 'almost'.) Either way, Ben felt inherently good for you.

You think back to when you first met Ben. Jenny had been admitted into hospital, following a questionable dose of Botox that left her face swollen with cellulitis. Jenny, being the nosiest of all your friends, took the opportunity to commandeer a conversation about Harry, which quickly descended into an argument involving the throwing of alcohol hand rub and you declaring that you were "just friends".

After your heated debate with Jenny, you suddenly felt in dire need of a very strong coffee. On ordering a double espresso, you were infuriated by the barista's reply that the espresso machine had just broken down.

"Here, have mine," an unknown voice said beside you. "I probably shouldn't have it anyway; I'm due in surgery in an hour," the stranger smiled at you, ordering a much-less caffeinated cup of tea instead, as he placed the steaming cup in your direction. You noticed that he was in scrubs, with a stethoscope around his neck. Scrubs suit him, you thought mentally. You didn't give a single thought to the other guy who always looks good in scrubs.

"I...well..." you hesitated reluctantly. You normally have guys that buy you drinks, not give them to you for no apparent reason.

"Come on, don't look at me like that, it isn't laced with Rohypnol. You just look like you need it more than me," the stranger smiled again. It wasn't one of those in-your-face dazzling whitened smiles, it was natural and inviting.

"Gee, thanks," you laughed.

"I didn't mean it like...I'm not very good at...I'm Ben," the stranger sighed, sticking out his hand to you, most likely to shake it.

"Nikki," you smiled, following him to find a table in the coffee shop.

After talking about music and medicine and old family pets, Ben noticed the time, and realised that his patient probably couldn't have a appendectomy without his help. He apologised, scribbling his number down on a napkin, and told you to call him if you ever needed another espresso.

Ben was nice. He is nice. You think about him calling you this morning to ask if he should wear a tie or not to lunch. You told him jumper and jeans was fine; it was only Leo, after all. It's things like that. He's smart, but not cocky. He's funny, but not immature. He's attractive, but not sleazy.

You don't find yourself constantly thinking about Harry when you're with Ben.

"Nikki..." his voice brings you back into the present, his whisper strained, as if he too is struggling to cope with this situation. It's all new territory, not just the stable relationships you've managed to maintain over the past few months, but the very not-platonic feelings that have revealed themselves tonight.

"Don't," your voice sounds a lot stronger than you thought it would, even though you can still hear the wobble if you listen closely.

"Nikki, we have to talk about-"

"No, no, we don't. We have to go back out there, and smile, and be happy, and be in relationships, because that's exactly what's happening. We have to go out there and not talk about this again, because that...that did not just happen...and...we have to...cake. We have to eat cake," you ramble, at a loss for anything remotely coherent.

"Nikki-"

"No," you hiss, interrupting him again, "Just stop, okay?"

* * *

><p>Isabel shares an awkward glance with you over the table. Janet had served dessert, and then taken Isabel upstairs for something to do with béchamel. When they came back to the table, they noticed the absence of two people from the table. Harry and Nikki. Your respective other halves. You smile back, unsure of what to say.<p>

As far as you could tell, the main course was lovely. The conversation flowed, although the wine flowed a lot more. However, the undertone of awkwardness at the table was more prominent now, more uncomfortable. But you were unsure why. There didn't seem to be an obvious elephant in the room.

Looking up again, you see the challenge in Isabel's eyes, as if to question which one of you will be the most desperate and go in search of their partner? With the strained conversation having dwindled into an unbearable silence, your stomach reminds you that it needs pudding.

"I'll just go see where they've got to," you smile, earning a curt nod from Leo in approval as you get up from the table in the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

><p>"Nikki? Are you alright?"<p>

Yet another foreign voice pokes his head around the door, interrupting the talk that you and Nikki had yet to finish. However, with Nikki shutting you out, and supposedly acting like nothing had happened, you would have to wait to finish what you were trying to say. Preferably when her tongue was loosened with alcohol.

"Yeah, babe, I'm fine," she smiles, walking up to him and giving him a quick peck on the lips, which seems to satisfy him. It's a relationship kiss. Not the passion-fuelled, guilt-ridden kiss that you shared with her earlier, but the kiss that requires nothing more to satisfy.

You wonder how many of Isabel's kisses it will take before you're satisfied the way Nikki satisfies you.

"What's wrong? Your eyes are red," Ben asks concernedly, brushing his hand against her cheek lightly.

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing, just got soap in my eyes. Harry was helping me rinse it out," she lies smoothly, cleverly giving you an alibi too.

"You should've called me - I'm a doctor," he grins sheepishly, with a goofy grin.

"So am I," you state, arms folded across your chest, guarded, with just the tiniest hint of smugness.

"Dessert? I'm starving," Nikki smiles, changing the subject quickly.

"Yeah," smiles Ben, content, taking her hand, and leading her out of the door. You mirror Nikki's actions from earlier and rake a hand through your hair, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Are you coming, Harry? You never miss an opportunity for Janet's victoria sponge," Nikki laughs, leaning back through the doorway, still attached to Ben's hand.

"Yeah," you smile half-heartedly, out of Ben's line of sight.

She's acting. Acting like it never happened. Acting like nothing has changed. Acting like you're just friends.

Well, maybe she has a point. Maybe you should act like friends. It's certainly easier that way. You know where you stand.

But maybe it's harder to pretend anymore.

Maybe pretending isn't enough.

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><p><strong>Okay...I'm not boasting or anything, but I actually got this up in less than a month :) That's major news for me. Would've been up sooner but my laptop decided to delete some of this chapter, leaving me to try and remember it. <strong>

**Once again, totally blown away, not by the awful weather but by your AMAZING response to this story! **

**Thank you to everyone who has alerted, favourited and especially my awesome reviewers: Lizziginne (your fangirling is much appreciated), Cariad1987, Lotte Elle, call-me-rose, Baibe, charli-girl, delectabledaisy, Hi-World, greyslostwho, Izzy, dinabar, tigersbride, hopelesslyhalfhearted (for both your reviews x), OmNomNom (really?), pinkswallowsun and WelshClaire. I love you all, my fantastic Witness Army xxx**

**Please, as always, read, review, and feel free to ignore the ridiculously long note :)**

**Love Em xx**

**PS/ Thanks to all who wished me luck with exams! They are now over and I am free!**


	5. Chapter 5: Pretend We're Not Pretending

_**Catch22 - Chapter 5: Pretend We're Not Pretending**_

**Don't kill me for what I'm about to do. Please. There is a point to it, I promise. Eventually.**

* * *

><p>The next day, as you come in, you glance briefly at the clock, cursing internally when you realise you are, once again, late. You wonder for a minute how it happened, considering you were dressed and out the door before Isabel had even woken up.<p>

But then you remembered the hour spent nursing a polystyrene coffee cup on one of the park benches as the sun came up, thinking up ways you could start a conversation with Nikki casually enough, as if that kiss never existed.

All through the rest of dinner last night, she sat there laughing and smiling, positively indifferent to what had just happened between you, as if it didn't matter.

Well, guess what? It bloody mattered.

* * *

><p>You made sure you were in early this morning. All too often since you had been dating Ben, you'd been getting into work later and later. Which meant that you would inevitably clash with Harry on his way in, as time was something of little relevance to him.<p>

Today, however, despite your insistence that nothing had happened between you last night, was different. There was a tension palpable, even though Harry was nowhere to be seen. And that tension was not something you were willing to exacerbate.

So you came in really early, earlier than Leo, in fact, determined to avoid any sort of conversation with Harry. You made sure that you were ready to leave even before Ben had woken up. You needed that time alone to think about last night. Because once you got to work, you needed to act as if everything was normal. Meaning you couldn't talk to Harry about it. Or even think about it near him. It just wasn't possible.

Because the minute you did, you were acknowledging it. The kiss. Which is exactly what you didn't need right now. You didn't need to see that look on Harry's face again, you couldn't. It was like looking in a mirror, because in that moment, you both wanted the same thing. Each other.

* * *

><p>As you come through the door, you can almost feel your mood shift inside your head, as you stop dead in your tracks. It's a foreign sight to see Nikki actually at work before you nowadays. You normally clash with her as you're on your way in, before sneaking off for a quick coffee, praying that Leo doesn't see you first.<p>

The fact that she is at work on time is highly significant. She knows what it's going to be like. So she's avoiding you. Furthermore, she seems highly engrossed in what looks like a PM report, indicating that she has been at her desk for some time now. She wasn't on time; she was early.

As you enter the room, something feels off, something you can't seem to put your finger on. It's only once you've taken your coat off and sat at your desk that it occurs to you. You're sat at your own desk. She's sitting at her own desk.

You open your mouth as if to speak, but before you can say anything, you're rudely interrupted by the sound of her phone. Not breaking the tension, but adding to it.

* * *

><p>Waking up, the pillow feels cool. It's not already warm, and there is the absence of the blonde person who shares her bed with you. Calling her name in confusion, the flat feels emptier as you enter each room.<p>

Going back into the bedroom, the alarm has been switched off. You always set your alarm for 6am. It's the only way you know you'll actually have the energy to get out of bed. Or safely press snooze for another hour without being late for work. Thankfully, today is your day off. You were hoping that Nikki would be late for work this morning, and just spend a little time with you.

However, the empty flat suggests otherwise. No note left, her pillows made, no indication that she had actually been there last night at all. You know she was, because as soon as you got home, she went straight to bed and fell asleep. Or at least, pretended to be. You're pretty sure she wasn't actually asleep. Nobody falls asleep that quickly, but you played along. If she just wanted some peace, then who were you to object?

But you were concerned. Last night, she had been very quiet, and now, this. Calling her number, you decide it's better to be safe than sorry, and you realise that she's probably fine, and just wanted an early start. You know as well as most, if you start a Monday morning feeling sluggish, you won't achieve anything.

"Hey," she picks up on the third ring, "Sorry. I think I might be out of bread. You'll have to make do with cereal. If there's any milk left. God, I really need to shop," she laughs in spite of herself, which in turn, makes you smile too.

"No, I don't mind that - I can get something at home. I was just checking that you're alright," you hope that it doesn't sound as desperate as it did in your head; you feel like a parent checking up on their teenage daughter.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just snowed under. What are you doing?"

"Your washing up," you laugh, tutting at the state of her kitchen.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. Well, I'll treat you to dinner tonght then, as a thank you," you can almost hear the guilty smile at the other end of the line.

"I'm not complaining. I'll book us a table. Love you," you say before you can think. It was a flippant, off-hand comment, but you realise that by opening that can of worms, her reply is crucial. Her reply has the potential to define your entire relationship.

* * *

><p>You feel your entire body freeze. Whether he intended to say it or not, you need to give him an answer. An answer that could make or break your relationship. In the time you've been dating, you'd never thought to look beyond the present, to contemplate the possibility of a future.<p>

But with Harry sitting less than three metres away from you, it's becoming increasingly harder to contemplate anything but him. In a bid to ignore that tugging feeling in the pit of your stomach, you say the words that, although competely transparent, will hopefully put to rest anything between you and Harry.

"Love you too," you smile, although your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, and there is just the tiniest hint of falseness in your tone that only Harry would pick up on. From the corner of your eye, you see his head look up at you, momentarily distracted from the stack of tox reports on his desk.

As you put down the phone and attempt to return to your work, you can't ignore the persistence of him; you're still very much aware that he's watching you. Looking up, you briefly see a flicker of something, something ressembling defeat, or anguish, even, but before you can blink, he's concentrating on his work again, his face emotionless and cold.

* * *

><p>"You love him?" you try to sound casual, collected, but even you can hear the bitterness in your voice. You know she doesn't mean it. The tone of her voice gave her away completely. So why say it? It was plain to see that she didn't want to; she only said it out of obligation, to avoid any awkwardness. There was a pretty significant pause before she said it too, a delay. A sign that she's not entirely satisfied.<p>

"Harry, don't," she sighs, holding her head in her hands, refusing to look at you. The weariness in her voice says it all. This charade she's maintaining, it's physically exhausting her. She doesn't have the fight left in her to keep resurrecting a relationship that never had any life to begin with.

"Why?" you persist, because you can feel it, in every single fibre of your body: she wants out of her relationship with Ben.

"Because I love him," she says, trying to sound confident and convinced. But you're not sre if she's trying to convince you or herself. The waver in her voice suggests otherwise; she doesn't love him, she never will. You scoff at her words, shaking our head, trying not to laugh. Her determination is almost comical.

"I love him," she repeats, her voice laced with anger, as she gets up from her chair to jab a finger at you. But as you get up to match her stance, she backs up slightly, as if to distance herself from you. You don't give her the benefit of that distance she requires. You take another step, closer to her.

"That," you begin tentatively, "is not love. Love is not kissing somebody else in the next room. Love is not spending the evening more focused on the centrepiece than your partner. And love is most definitely not telling someone you love them when you don't even mean it," your voice is almost a whisper now, your face so dangerously close to hers that you can feel her breath swirling across your lips, daring to prise them apart.

She stands motionless, before stepping back from you, giving herself that all important distance again, fracturing the moment that you had so delicately built.

"I love him," she repeats again, enunciating on the word 'love', glaring at you, her eyes glistening, before turning on her heel with her PM reports and marching out of the room, her boots clicking on the tiled floor.

* * *

><p>It's only once you've left the room that you lean against the wall and sigh. It's not right. What you're doing to Ben, what you're doing to Harry. A solitary tear slowly trickles down your cheek, several more threatening to fall, as you attempt to blink them away.<p>

You know that you can't keep doing this much longer. You need to break things off with Ben. It's not fair on him. He deserves so much better than a girl who can't even be faithful to him. And it's not like he's a womaniser or a raving alcoholic; he's one of the good ones. He needs to know how you feel about him. Or rather, how you don't feel.

He doesn't have to know about Harry. If you're ending things with him, you don't need to cause him any further pain. You're not that heartless. But, you did cheat on him. Granted, it was only a kiss. But it wasn't the actual kiss that was significant, it was the person you were kissing.

The person that you've desperately tried to ignore your feelings for. Because they scare you so much, just thinking about them is volatile. It scares you, both mentally and physically, how much you can care for one person. It scares you that you don't even feel guilty anymore for feeling this way.

* * *

><p>The day continues as if you and Nikki have had a fight. She avoids you, you avoid her. She doesn't speak to you, you don't speak to her. Even Leo knows something is up, staying in his office rather than attempt to break the ice between you. Even Leo knows that breaking the ice now would create the most catastrophic of avalanches.<p>

And when the time comes for you to leave, she is out the door before you've even got your coat on. She doesn't even say goodbye to Leo. You, on the other hand, take your time getting ready, not wanting to chance an encounter in the car park. You're not sure if you could handle it. If one kiss was all it took to tilt the balance between you, you can't bear the thought of any more of those longing looks across the car park. It's almost clichéd.

So you take your time, putting an effort into making sure pens have their lids on, and every piece of paper actually has a place, instead of being strewn casually on your desk. You turn your computer off properly, and even go as far as to steal Nikki's polish and duster from her drawer to give it a quick clean.

Once you finally leave the office, having checked around the room three times in search of tasks to do, fearing you would still bump into Nikki despite it being half an hour later, you check your phone as you appear to have misplaced your watch. As your phone vibrates into life, you stare concernedly at the three missed calls from Isabel. You try your hardest to ignore the irritation that Nikki hasn't called you. Not that she has a reason to, after everything, but it's an unfamiliar feeling that Nikki isn't your most recent caller.

* * *

><p>Your thumb hovers over Harry's name on your phone, just itching to dial the number. Three times your thumb presses the "call" button, and three times you hastily press the "end call" button before the phone even begins to ring. Tonight is hard enough, but not having Harry there to comfort you, is even harder than you had anticipated.<p>

As soon as you get through the door, you see two of Ben's shirts draped over the back of the sofa, one blue, one black. It's then that the feeling of dread begins. You know that he's content with you, comfortable enough that he can keep his belongings dotted around your flat without you really minding. But you do mind.

The more comfortable he gets in your flat, the more uncomfortable it makes you feel. Because it only makes the decision to call time on your relationship all the more difficult. The larger the hole you dig, the longer the ladder you need to pull yourself out again. Breaking up with Ben, you have figured out, is a deep hole. And you don't know what sort of ladder would be able to rescue you.

But when you see his face as he comes out of the shower, just smiling at you, you know you have to do it then. You remain undeterred, despite the very distracting towel around his waist. You don't realise how much it will hurt you, breaking up with him. But it does hurt. Seeing the look on his face, as the never-ending smile is finally peeled from his features, replaced by a mixture of pain and confusion, it dawns on you that you have just hurt a completely innocent person. He didn't even see it coming. As far as he knew, everything was fine.

But it's his next few words that floor you.

"How long?" his voice is barely a whisper, hoarse although he has been silent the entire time, "You and Harry. How long?"

"It's not as simple as that," you sigh, shaking your head, determined not to cry, "Ben, you have to understand-"

"No, I don't. I don't have to understand because it doesn't make sense," he says, his voice steady, remaining calm despite the most awful circumstances, "I thought we were happy."

"We were," you assure him, stroking the back of his hand, which, unsurprisingly, he snatches away from you, leaving you fidgety, as you awkwardly perch on the arm of the sofa, not wanting to mimick his pacing around the room, for fear of a collision between you.

"You say it's not that simple? You love Harry. You don't love me. So we break up. Problem solved," he scoffs, dusting his hands flippantly as if this break-up is a chore that needs to be completed.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, after a long pause, allowing yourself to breathe properly again, "Really."

"I know," he smiles sadly, "For what it's worth, I thought we had something good. But I knew it was only a matter of time. I mean, the way he looks at you. He's not just your best friend, Nikki. He's everything."

He walks across the room, enveloping you in a brief hug, kissing the top of your head, as you realise this will be the last time you actually see him. He cares about you a great deal, but being friends, it would be a walking disaster, considering everything that has happened.

"I'll pick up my stuff at the weekend, okay?" he smiles, his hand stroking your cheek, leaving you speechless as you can only nod in agreement.

"Goodbye, Nikki Alexander," he whispers into your hair, before taking his keys out of his pocket, removing your spare key, and handing it back to you. As he walks out the door, he closes a chapter on your life. The chapter where you tried (and failed) to get over Harry. The chapter, that quite frankly, was so large that it required a while book.

You let out the sob you have been stifling, a sob not for the end of your relationship, but for the impending emptiness in your flat. The echo that has become all too familiar, the echo that you really hoped you'd seen the last of. The echo that mirrors the emptiness inside you.

The echo that is the absence of Harry.

* * *

><p>As you walk through your door, the first thing you encounter is a box. Stumbling over it in the relative darkness, you don't even think to notice that the box is a new addition in your flat. As you walk through, into the living room, you find Isabel on the phone, giving someone hell, as she clutches a sheet of paper.<p>

As she finally loses her patience with the person at the other end of the line, she hangs up and turns around to find you watching her in surprise. Guiltily, she collects all her things that have been discarded around the room, and piles them back into the box that is in the hallway.

"Sorry," she sighs, "My landlord has sort of...evicted me. Says he wants to sell rather than rent. All my stuff is in storage, and, have you seen the price of flats around here? It's absurd. I need to be close enough to work, and close enough to the gym, and-"

"Woah, woah, Isabel, slow down," you cut off her ramblings, "Isn't there some kind of law against your landlord chucking you out?"

"Apparently not. I guess I didn't read the fine print," she sighs again, rubbing her temples in a bid to relieve her tension. You spin her around and begin to massage her shoulders, relaxing her as you feel her shoulders unclench.

"Why don't you just move in here?" you ask suddenly, a thought occurring to you, but most likely for the wrong reasons. Nikki had just told Ben she loved him, and isn't that how you should feel about Isabel? If Nikki was adamant that nothing happened last night, then there was no reason why you shouldn't move Isabel into your apartment. The more you convinced yourself that it was a brilliant idea, the less you thought about Nikki and Ben.

Furthermore, with you massaging her shoulders, she had her back to you. She couldn't see the lack of sincerity across your face, nor the pained look as you thought about Nikki. Not asking her to her face, it made it seem less real.

"I don't know," she says, "I have a lot of stuff. Maybe we could...find a place of our own?" she asks hopefully, turning around in your arms, to look up at you.

"Or not," she backtracks, seeing the look of shock on your face, which is clearly the wrong expression, as she pulls out of your embrace.

"No," you say a little too hastily, "Why not? I mean, this place is...well, small, to say the least. Why shouldn't we get a place of our own?"

"You really mean that?" she replies, her voice nearly a whisper. You really how much of a bastard you're being, getting her hopes up for a future that you don't actually see yourself in. But it's the only way you can move forward from Nikki. It's the only way you can achieve some sort of normality with her again. Go back to being just friends.

"Yeah, I really do," you smile, ignoring the fact that your heart isn't really in this. The fact that when this relationship breaks down (because you know that it will break down eventually), she'll be the one that gets hurt, not you. Because whilst you like Isabel, you certainly don't love her. That particular emotion is reserved for the one person you can't have.

Nikki.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, a number of things. One: thank you for sticking with this even though I suck at updating. With ATIFIL (Really, BBC? Not even a goodbye?), and exam results tomorrow, I literally only sat down to write this in the last fortnight.<strong>

**Two, I apologise for the confusing changing POVs. It was meant to be just Nikki and Harry, but then Ben wanted to speak, and I thought it was rude to stop him. **

**Three, I apologise if there are any typos. I typed this up from a paper copy from 3am to 7am on three consecutive days when I couldn't/wouldn't sleep. **

**Four, thank you to everyone who reviewed Chapter 4: pinkswallowsun, tigersbride, Lizziginne, dinabar, WelshClaire, Izzy, Baibe, Cariad1987, and tigpop for both your reviews :)**

**I love you all, my miraculous Witness Army, you are all so amazing! And as always, please read and review!**

**Ems xx**

**PS/ I am sorry for all your losses. TV will not recover from the absence of Dr Harry Cunningham :'( **


	6. Chapter 6: Talk all the Talk

_**Catch 22: Chapter 6 - Talk All The Talk**_

"So, you're moving in together? That's...well...serious, isn't it?" asks Leo, the 'concerned parent' look gracing his features, much to your amusement.

"You think it's too fast, don't you?" you laugh heartily, finding his apparent doubt a bit too funny.

"Well, it did cross my mind, yes," Leo agrees meekly, sighing as he collapses into his chair, various case files opened and highlighter poised, ready to pull apart every incorrect theory the current precocious DCI had.

"Well, we have been together nearly six months. Most people are married quicker than that nowadays," you sigh, fully prepared for the judgemental (and fully justified) stance you are about to get from Leo about your relationship with Isabel.

"And promptly divorced, mind you. I just meant - you'd be living with her permanently, Harry, under one roof. Nowhere to go if you feel suffocated," he continues, scratching his head as if this situation has suddenly perplexed him. You're not entirely surprised though - you know all too well it's been too quick.

It's been a month since you broached the subject with Isabel about moving in together, and since then, everything has been hurtling at full speed - the endless property viewings, the incessant calls from uptight estate agents, even the invasion of colour charts onto the coffee table - it's left you scared that there doesn't seem to be a handbrake within reach to slow it all down.

"Why wouldn't I want to live with Isabel? I lo-" you stop yourself, the hesitation proving as much to Leo as to you. You realise that in Leo's presence, you don't feel the need to lie. You don't love Isabel, it's pretty doubtful as to whether you actually ever will.

"You can't say it, can you?" Leo murmurs quietly, as if trying not to draw attention to it. However, his voice in the silence, following your abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence, only forefronts his comment, emphasising its relative value to your relationship. Another person has been able to see it. The doubt, the hesitation, the disinterest. It might only be Leo, but it's still blindingly obvious to him that you don't love Isabel.

"I can't say what?" you call back to him, cowardly leaving the room and scuttling back to your desk hastily, in the hope of dropping all and any mention of Isabel. And what will probably come next: Nikki.

"Harry," Leo warns you, having followed you back into the science room, leaving you cusing internally, "I'm not saying you be in love with the girl. Not yet, anyway. I'm not saying you shouldn't move in. I'm not saying you should break up. Not even close. I'm saying that you should be doing this for the right reasons."

"Meaning what?" you mutter, barely looking up from your screen, feigning ignorance.

"Nikki and Ben broke up. She's spending the morning helping him clear out his things," Leo says casually, deliberately awaiting the involuntary reaction that you just can't help. The freeze. You stop typing and writing and flicking through endless pages of reports, your head turning towards Leo.

"They broke up?" you ask, your curiosity piqued immensely.

"Mm-hm. Right reasons, remember, Harry? She knew she wasn't doing it for the right reasons," Leo smiles gently at you, nodding curtly once he realises you understand what he's saying. Fair point, it's not explicitly telling you to break up with Isabel, but it's pretty damn close.

* * *

><p>It's only once Ben has left your flat for the last time, after various trips back and forth between your place and his, moving stuff in the back of his dinky little Polo, that you feel completely alone. In the days before you broke up with him, the simple presence of him in your bed made you feel safer. Granted, he wasn't Harry, no-one could ever be Harry, but the image of him asleep, completely at peace with the world, helped you to sleep slightly better too.<p>

Even after you told Ben it was over, the trail of his possessions lining your flat made it feel like a safety blanket, not entirely necessary, but welcome to give extra comfort. The toothbrush next to yours in its holder, his hairbrush next to yours on the dresser, even his very own drawer, his "man" drawer, as he called it, following some comedy stand-up show that you had watched curled up on the sofa.

The empty drawer is symbolic of a part of your life left vacant, a part of your life void of any contents, whether it be affection, amusement, or dare you say it, love. The harsh ring of your phone suddenly sounds so shrill, as if bouncing off every wall in a bid for freedom. A flood of relief washes over you when you see the familiar name. Honestly, you don't think you could actually handle anyone else right now.

"Sorry Leo, Ben couldn't find his car keys. Turns out it was in one of the boxes. I'm on my way, though, leaving now. Are there any new cases I should be aware of?"

"No, none, it's quite quiet. That wasn't what I was going to say," Leo replies, his tone more cautious, more wary, as if waiting to gauge an emotional response from you, for a subject that you had yet to be aware of.

"Well, what then? Is everything okay?" you say loudly as you start your car, putting Leo onto loudspeaker.

"It's Harry. And Isabel," Leo sighs, the weariness in his voice crackling down the phoneline.

"They've broken up?" you exclaim, jumping to conclusions, puzzled. The last you checked, Harry and Isabel were fine. The kiss between you and Harry was to be forgotten about, and you were both to get on with your lives as usual.

"Not quite. They're...they're actually moving in together."

If your heart could physically drop to the pit of your stomach, swirl around in the acid inside it and spontaneously disintegrate, it would have happened as soon as those words left Leo's mouth. You have an inability to close your mouth, having to choice but to allow it to lie hanging slightly open, half subconsciously, half aghast.

"Why are you telling me this? Did Harry ask you to do this?" you try to swallow, but find there is a lump in your throat constricting any possibility of movement, instead, leaving your face contorted as you attempt to swallow again, your throat burning as you do so.

"No, he didn't. He's pacing around the room trying to figure out how to tell you," Leo says considerably more quietly, and you sense that Harry is probably somewhere within hearing range.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask, with just a hint of amusement in your tone. For someone who was so adamant he wanted to talk about what had happened between them, he sure was doing a pretty good job of not bringing it up.

"I just thought - I figured...I wanted you to be prepared, Nikki," Leo groans, probably knowing he's not going to get anywhere with this conversation.

"Be prepared? Like the good little girl guide I am?" you scoff, shaking your head, as you pull into your regular car space. Harry's car, you notice, is on the complete other side of the car park, not even needing to cross your path on the way out. Talk about obvious.

"Nikki," Leo chides, a gentle ticking off to remind you that he has to stay impartial, and therefore, you probably won't get any negative remarks against Harry to make you feel better.

"Relax, Leo, it's fine. I'm happy for him. He deserves to be happy," you smile softly, hanging up the phone before Leo can second guess your emotions. He's your colleague, friend and boss, not your personal shrink.

* * *

><p>As the sound of her heels come into earshot, you clumsily fumble around on your desk, looking for the most complicated item to engross yourself in, before realising that you're trying to tell her about you and Isabel.<p>

"Congratulations," she smiles at you, looking up at you as she reaches her desk, before you get the chance to say anything. The blank expression upon your face prompts her to continue, "You and Isabel? Moving in together? Thats deep, even for you. Glad you finally made the milestone," she giggles to no-one in particular, as you can't find it in yourself to laugh.

"Thanks," your voice wavers, unsure how to react to her unexpected burst of positivity, One thing. How did you-"

"Leo told me. Have you stolen my ruler again?" she asks, blatantly changing the subject.

"Of course. Heard about you and Ben," you say awkwardly, shrugging your shoulders helplessly when she throws you the most withering look for your insensitivity. Holding her gaze, you can't help but smirk at her, knowing by the curling of her lips that she is holding back a laugh. And for a moment, it's almost like old times. But, as if contolled by some outside force, the moment is cruelly snatched from you, leaving a harsh silence between you.

You both get up, walking towards different parts of the room for different things, meeting in the middle and stopping in front of each other, paths blocked. You do the awkward "step to one side, then the other" charade, until Nikki turns around to go the long way around the desk. But before she's out of arm's reach, you lean out and pull her back into your personal space.

"Harry," her voice implores, staring at your hand that enclasps her wrist, before slowly dragging her eyes back to you. It's then that you realise you don't need that handbrake to cool things down between you and Isabel. Depending on how heartless you're willing to be, you have the emergency stop. One word to Isabel about you and Nikki, and the world you have so carefully crafted to try and get over Nikki, will soon come crashing down.

And before you can think about what you're doing, your hand is on her cheek, giving it physical support where it simply doesn't need it. But it's the emotional support it provides for the pair of you. The craving of your touch upon her skin. Mirroring your actions, her hand finds it way to your cheek too, the tip of her thumb gently rubbing your jawbone, a slow, deliberate movement, drawn out for maximum effect.

Leaning into you, she almost collapses against your chest, as if uncapable of standing without the solidity of your torso in front of her. You know that every last thought of Isabel is drifting out of your brain, into the darkest corners to be disregarded, as you lean down to place a kiss on Nikki's lips. Melting into the kiss, you become so completely absorbed that you forget that Leo may indeed be watching, or any of the other lab technicians, for that matter.

You're not sure what this kiss means. It's another one, clouded by ambiguity and a collection of emotions, thrown into disarray by the sudden turn of events with both Isabel and Ben. Whether this kiss is the beginning or the end, and clichéd though it may sound, you never want it to end.

Backing her up against your desk, you find it hard to care. Your kisses become slower, more gentle as she hops up onto your desk, eliciting the softest of moans from her lips.

The sudden intrusion of the phone ringing fills the room with a harsh, unnatural sound, much like the sound of an alarm clock at the most ridiculous hour, when you're balanced on the edge of consciousness.

Pulling apart, she leans back to pick up the phone, leaning over the desk completely in order to jot down an address onto a post-it note. Hopping off the desk as she hangs up the phone, she wordlessly leaves the room, taking her bag and coat with her, most definitely in response to a new case.

Leaving you motionless in the middle of the room, you have no idea what just happened. It's like the time has been erased from your memory as soon as it has happened. Whatever that kiss was though, you know one thing for sure.

That kiss was not the end. That kiss was not the beginning. It was a continuation. And, true to form, a continuation, by nature, must continue. Eventually.

And continuation means hope.

It's not over yet.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I apologise profusely for the delay in getting this up. Just started my AS year, and it's hectic to say the least. 5 subjects plus LAMDA - a bit nightmarish. (I also apologise for my terrible lack of reviewings and relative disappearance from Twitter...)<strong>

**Two, you have no idea how excited I am about the next chapter. You'll see why eventually. So please, as always, read and review :)**

**Three, massive hugs and cupcakes to everyone who reviewed C5: Lizziginne, tigersbride, liesel81, Charli-girl, dinabar, Baibe, Izzy, tigpop, Hi-World and Cariad1987 - I literally heart you all!**

**Love Em xxx**

**PS/ Thanks to everyone who also wished me luck with exam results - I was very pleased with them, but now seem to have forgotten the concept of work after a 5 month break from school :)**


	7. Chapter 7: Everything Or Nothing At All

_**Catch 22: Chapter 7 - Everything or Nothing at All**_

"What do you mean, you kissed her?" Leo cries, distracted (not for the first time) from his work by you pacing in front of him.

"I think it's pretty self-explanatory," you snap, stopping and standing in front of Leo, raking a hand through your still damp hair, from the shower (very cold shower) you had just taken, "Sorry," you sigh, apologising for your tone, as Leo simply stares at him with raised eyebrows.

"No, I - What I meant was why? What is happening with you and her?" he says softly, gesturing in the direction of Nikki's desk, before returning to his work momentarily.

"I have no idea," you sigh, fiddling with a cuddly toy on Leo's desk, a toy you remember that Nikki gave to him after he got his MBE.

"Put that down," Leo tuts, prising the object from your fingers and replacing it on his desk, an action that much mirrors a father reprimanding his child, "Why did you kiss her, Harry?"

"I - I don't know," you mumble, returning to your desk, as you fiddle with your nails, in particular, the skin on the edge of your thumb, as you bite at it nervously.

"You don't know?" Leo cries in disbelief, following you, "So you just cheat on your girlfriend for-"

"Look, I know how it sounds. I just... I don't want to hurt Nikki, you know? God, Leo, through all the crap I've put her through...she deserves so much more than me," you mutter, some words more coherent than others as you put your head in your hands, an act of shame if ever there was one.

"But? I'm sensing there's a 'but' coming," Leo pushes you, knowing that you need to say it, once and for all, and finally admit it.

"I love her," you say weakly, looking up at him, "You know when people say, the love of your life? I can see it with her, the whole death do us part, church wedding in front of everyone - and I don't even believe in God - I can actually see it all," you murmur, rambling slightly, "I love her," you repeat louder this time.

"I love you too," a voice from behind you says suddenly.

You and Leo turn around simultaneously, in shock.

Eager to find a face to fit the voice.

* * *

><p>"Oh, for God's sake," you mumble under your breath, praying that he hasn't seen you, as if the transparent windscreen of your car will suddenly make you invisible. However, as his sullen eyes lock onto yours, you exhale loudly and reluctantly get out of your car. If there's anything you hate more than a rainy crime scene, it's Mumford at a rainy crime scene.<p>

"Ah, Dr Alexander," Mumford says, his depthless voice infiltrating the comforting silence in your mind, and instantly irritating you beyond recognition.

"DCI Mumford, a please as always," you reply, shaking his hand, your sarcasm subtle for your own satisfaction, but also much to the amusement of the man next to Mumford, who you presume is another detective.

"Dr Alexander, my junior, DI Harper," Mumford says, as his "junior" leans over him to shake your hand.

"Toby Harper," he smiles at you, beginning to take notes with you about the crime scene, and attempting to ignore the vitriol being shouted by the general public about the police "failing" society.

"AKA the junior? you smirk, raising one eyebrow, as Mumford turns his back.

"Mm-hm," he smirks back, not crazy enough to say anything else, as Mumford had now rejoined you, but for a reason neither man knew, you still had a smirk on your face.

"What?" Harper inquires, your smile infectious as he begins to smile back at you.

"Toby?" you giggle, as he shrugs his shoulders, not comprehending, "Oxford or Cambridge?"

"Caius, Cambridge," he laughs, mentally applauding her, "How d'you guess?"

"Toby?" you repeat, as if his name alone makes him obvious Oxbridge alumni. You then begin to take it in turns to name stereotypical "posh-boy" qualities, each one more ridiculous than the last, until Mumford barks that you should have greater concentration on the case.

"I've been called to a stabbing, Mumford. I think the cause of death would therefore be, oh, I don't know, a stabbing?" you sigh exasperatedly, your sarcasm more prominent now, as you begin to lose your patience with Mumford.

"Still not a Professor, Dr Alexander?" Mumford replies dryly, an unnecessary dig needed to assert his authority.

"Still not invited to the Christmas party, DCI Mumford?" you counter, nonchalant, causing Harper to laugh loudly.

"I wasn't laughing at-" Harper backtracks, trying to feign innocence as Mumford frowns at him disapprovingly, but to no avail, as he soon bursts out laughing again. Mumford, after throwing a few lines of verbal abuse at both of you, soon stalks off in search of more prey to bark at, leaving you both laughing as Harper helps you put your instruments back into your case.

"Well, that's us told. I don't think we're in his good books today," you whisper unnecessarily, for Mumford is out of earshot, yelling at a tabloid photographer trying to get nearer to the crime scene.

"I don't think that's humanely possible," he whispers back, as you nod in agreement, giggling.

* * *

><p>The face to fit the voice soon becomes apparent as you spin around.<p>

But with Nikki at a crime scene, it could only ever be the wrong face.

Isabel.

You curse internally as your eyes come to rest on her smiling at you, her hair immaculately pinned into its customary tight bun, her bank uniform plain and uncreased.

"Hey," she smiles concernedly, walking over to you and kissing you on the cheek, "What's wrong?" she asks, noticing the slight hint of disdain that is possibly still gracing your features.

"What? Oh, nothing, just thinking," you recover quickly, smiling broadly (and almost certainly fakely) at her, your mind running through the possibility that she heard a lot more than you intended her to. Well, you didn't intend for her to hear any of this.

"What were you thinking about?" she laughs, "Looked like some serious thinking!"

"About the lovely mountain of work that he still hasn't finished," Leo interrupts, providing an escape for you to have some actual thinking time, "Sorry if that ruins your plans for lunch," Leo smiles apologetically, although you know that he's anything but sorry.

"No, it's fine, I was actually coming to see you, Leo. You and Janet are still coming tonight, aren't you? I wanted us all to have a meal together after everyone else has gone home," Isabel smiles, her voice warm and cheerful, and you wonder why you just can't be satisfied with her. Why she can't be enough.

"Oh, that sounds lovely, Isabel, I'll let her know," Leo replies, before making his excuses and finally returning to his desk.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Isabel smiles, pecking you on the cheek, as she turns to leave.

"Yeah," you smile back, although it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

* * *

><p>"I'll have you know, Harper, I didn't get to DCI by chatting up the assistants-"<p>

"Excuse me?" you cry, finally at the end of your tether after more than two hours with the man, "What did you just call me? Did you just call me an assistant?"

"Look, the detectives are the ones who do the real work. We find motive, put the clues together, find the killer, and send the little buggers to jail. What do you do? As you charmingly put it, it's a stabbing. Anyone could work out that the cause of death is a stab wound. God, I don't know how Home Office cuts didn't extend to you lot-"

"Come on, it's raining again. I'll walk you to your car; you can share my umbrella," Harper interjects, effectively breaking up the fight between you and Mumford before anything more can be said, "Why do you let him get to you?"

"It's a reflex. Like breathing, or yawning, or blinking - I can't help it," you sigh, knowing that you really shouldn't let Mumford rile you so much, "It's just - it's people like him that make my job-"

"Impossible? Yeah, I know. But the sooner you two co-operate, the sooner you find who did this, and bingo, case closed," Harper suggests, and you know it's a good suggestion, but the thought of having to work with Mumford again negates every reasonable train of thought.

"Did you just say bingo?" you giggle, "Sounds like something my grandad would have said."

"So, first, you mock my name, then my education, and now my vocabulary, and I'm supposed to share my umbrella with you? You're lucky you're pretty," Harper smiles at you, nudging you as you walk along the muddy road.

"Oh, I'm only teasing," you defend yourself, before grabbing him for support as you begin to slip in the mud.

"Serves you right," he laughs, although he helps you regain your balance, linking your arm into his for the rest of the trip back to your car.

As you reach your car, you reach an inevitable awkward silence, a moment filled with awkward smiles and awkward glances - even awkward breathing - until he decides to break it.

"Seems like a straightforward case," he says, rocking on his heels in a bid to stay warm, but he only succeeds in tilting rain droplets off his umbrella and onto you.

"Yeah," you sigh, choosing not to mention the fact that he is essentially pouring water onto your head.

"We can work our actual hours for once, and then go straight to bed," he continues wistfully, and it seems like a long time since he has had one of those days.

"Not for me," you add, for no reason in particular, "I'm going to a party. Well, a housewarming party, so-"

"Yeah, they're not exactly known for their radicalism," Harper agrees, "Unless you're one of those people who'll murder someone for spilling red wine on a white rug," he adds.

"Trust me, more often than not, it's me doing the spilling," you grin, putting your case in the boot, as Harper walks over to your car to close the boot for you.

"Thanks," you smile gratefully, "Hey, do you want to come tonight? Just as a way of saying thanks. Again," you offer, wishing this could have gone slightly smoother. You also wish that this evening could go smoother, but, with Harry playing happy families with Isabel, you know it's not exactly going to be an easy night for you.

"Thanks for what? Shutting your boot? I could just spend the evening showing you how to do it, if you like. It's really easy, actually. You just open the boot-"

"Yeah, you're funny. No, for helping me not to lose it with Mumford today," you reply seriously, smiling softly at him, trying not to get distracted by his lopsided grin, as it reminds you very much of someone who you'd rather not be thinking about right now.

"Oh, sure. What time is this rave, then?"

"Meet me at the Lyell Centre at six?" you inquire, handing him your card.

"I shall see you there, Nicola," he grins, walking away. You try and keep up the smile until he's so far away, you can't even see the features on his face clearly anymore, but it doesn't change the fact that it feels all wrong.

It feels wrong that you're inviting some guy you don't even know to your best friend's housewarming party. It feels wrong that you're flirting with some guy, when only a couple of weeks ago, you were happy with Ben. (Well, pretending to be, at least.) It feels wrong that Harry is having this housewarming party at all.

It feels wrong that Harry is still with her.

And if two wrongs don't make a right, then two more wrongs won't make it any better.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know I've totally disappeared off the face of the earth recently. But A-Levels are just so...blah! That's literally the best word I can find right now. I will definitely try to update more often (famous last words, I know), but I will really try :)<strong>

**I also said I was excited about this chapter. This now applies to C8, as for some reason, Toby Harper appeared in this fic, and I don't know how. It wasn't intentional. I'll try and get him to drift off sharpish.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed C6 (and continues to wait so patiently through my sporadic updating): delectabledaisy, Cariad1987, KiwiSWFan, greyslostwho, Lizziginne, liesel81, dinabar and tigersbride - Big suffocating hugs to you all! (In a nice way, obviously.)**

**As always, please read and review, even if it's only a couple of words! **

**Love Ems xx**


	8. Chapter 8: Your Love Will be Exorcised

_**Catch 22: Chapter 8 – Your Love Will Be Exorcised**_

As the guests begin to filter in, you slowly feel your heart drop more and more as each one isn't Nikki. A few people later and you see Leo and Janet, immediately removing yourself from your lean-to in the living room, and sidling over to them.

"No Nikki?" you try to ask casually, fully expecting a half-baked excuse about make-up and hair, although in truth, you know this probably is the real reason. You look around the room for no-one in particular, your eyes fixing onto Isabel a couple of times, as she busies herself with pouring drinks and mingling with her friends. You realise Isabel invited most of these people, and you've actually never met most of them before. You wonder how well you really know Isabel, because despite nearly six months of knowing her, you probably only know a handful of people in her life.

And the few friends you've managed to keep over the years, she's never even met, never even actually heard of them.

You continue this uncertainty in your head, different theories blending into one another, until your heart finally drops and smashes on the floor as Nikki walks through the door, pulling you out of any reverie you had intended on keeping until the evening was over.

Isabel is the first one to greet her, handing her a glass of champagne, and then, handing a glass to the tall man standing next to her, impeccably dressed and regrettably, good-looking. Most likely a detective, you add mentally. Isabel, being the hostess she is, soon moves on to the people behind them just coming through the door, but not before gesturing towards the bedroom for them to put their coats.

The stranger next to Nikki points in a vague direction, before Nikki smiles and nods, taking his coat from him, as he leaves her side, weaving his way through the oncoming hordes of people. You see him nearing you, as he attempts to get out of the room (you've reached the conclusion by now that he's looking for the bathroom), so instinctively, you open the first door you see and close it behind you, in a bit to avoid Nikki's new friend.

You sigh, both with relief and regret as you realise you've opened the door to the bedroom. Relief, because, if you're going to hide somewhere, you may as well do it somewhere comfortable. Regret, because, once the party is over and the dinner is over and the evening is over, this is where you'll be sleeping. With Isabel. Permanently. And somehow, that thought isn't as uplifting as you'd hoped it would be.

"Hiding at your own housewarming party? That's gotta be a new low for you," a voice suddenly says to your back, and you can almost hear the smirk in her voice. Turning around, you see Nikki in the doorway, clutching two coats in her hand, "Isabel said I could leave these in here," she smiles awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other, before tossing the coats onto the bed, on top of the others already there.

"What makes you think I'm hiding?" you smile back, as she closes the door behind her, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to you.

"These kinds of parties never really were your thing," she giggles nostalgically, and you're tempted to laugh along with her, at the sheer fact you're hosting parties you've always hated to go to. You and Nikki have always hated them, opting to stick together rather than separate, for fear of being lost in the crowd of yummy mummies and golfing buddies.

"Oh, because you know me so well?" you say in mock-seriousness, pretending to be annoyed at her (pretty accurate) assumption, nudging her shoulder with your own.

"No, I just happen to remember Leo and Janet's New Year's Eve party," she reminds you, causing you to groan outwardly at the memory.

"Oh God," you moan, hanging your head partially in shame, but also to hide the blush upon your face, as you remember the evening.

"I mean, you loved that party so much that you dragged me into a bathroom for half an hour just so you didn't have to kiss a stranger at midnight!" Nikki laughs, eventually becoming out of breath, as her cheeks grow pink at the apparent hilarity of the occasion.

"It wasn't that funny," you protest after a while, slightly perturbed by just how comical she finds this memory, "And besides, it worked, didn't it?"

"What did?" she stops herself from laughing briefly for the benefit of answering your question.

"Well, I didn't end up kissing a _stranger_ at midnight," you add pointedly, your eyes falling onto hers. She slowly lifts her head to look at you, as it dawns on her what you are saying, but she remains silent, neither of you trusting yourselves to say anything rational.

"That party was nearly a year ago," she sighs, getting up to look in the mirror, so she doesn't have to look at you anymore. In all fairness, if she didn't move away, it would have been you.

"You brought it up," you scoff, "Besides, it was a good party," you conclude, smiling in spite of yourself.

"Yeah," she smiles nostalgically, "Anyway, you best get back to Isabel," she sighs, almost ruefully, turning back to face you, rather than talking to your reflection in the mirror.

"Yeah, and you best get back to your new flavour of the month," you say jokily, as you get up from the bed, quite worryingly, with a bit of difficulty.

"My what?" she replies, incredulous, "He's not an ice-cream, Harry. He's just a guy," she giggles, her heels clacking on the linoleum floor as she walks back towards you.

"Ah, I forgot, you're rebounding," you retort, the smile on your face growing at her features, as they frown slightly in mock-furiousness. Well, you hope it's mock-furiousness.

"I'm not going to even satiate that with an answer," she replies, blasé, her features suggesting she's slightly offended by your off-hand comment, as she turns to leave once more.

"Spoilsport," you say brusquely, before taking one of numerous cushions lying on the bed, and throwing it in her general direction.

She looks at the cushion as it hits the floor, bending over excruciatingly slowly to pick it up, an action that is deliberate, conscious, to exploit any potential feelings you have towards her. Instead of throwing it back at you, as she much once would have, she slowly walks over to you, placing the fluffy item firmly into your hands.

"It's so different," she sighs resignedly, looking around the room, although you know what she really means.

"It's not me," you answer for her, nodding your head as you look at the furnishings around the room, a couple of scented candles, fluffy cushions, all chosen out by her. Fair enough, you did get a look in at a couple of colour charts, and you did help put together the furniture you picked out together at Ikea, but it was still a house. Not a home.

She offers you the smallest of nods, as if she is still in awe (or blatant) horror at the room. She then shakes her head slightly, as if she can't really comprehend the situation, or as if she is disregarding a new thought in her head. It's one of the first times you're unable to read the expression on her face. But unexpectedly, instead of moving away, or leaving the room, or any other possible action that is more likely, she rests her hand on your cheek, her thumb rubbing it gently.

"Why then?" she whispers, her voice cracking faintly, as her eyes begin to brim with tears.

"Because," you begin, running a hand across her hairline, playing with the few loose strands that she hadn't managed to keep under control, "I was afraid," you try to get out, although the lump in your throat is intent on keeping it in, where your words can't get you into trouble.

"Of what?" she breathes, her voice so scarce that you're unsure if she actually said it. You're almost scared to answer her, knowing that once you do, everything has the potential to change. But then again, maybe that's just what you need. Despite moving in with Isabel, it's still a pretence, you're still not fooling anyone, not your mother, certainly not Leo, and now, not even Nikki.

"Of this," you murmur, your voice barely audible as your hand moves down to her jawline, stroking her cheek, her jaw, her lips. It's then, in that moment, that suddenly, everything seems to fit into place. You don't need to pretend to have found contentment with Isabel, when you've already found it with Nikki.

With your free hand, you pull her closer to you, wrapping an arm around her waist, making her sigh softly as her hands come to rest on your chest, slowly moving onto your shoulders. It's barely been a couple of days since you kissed her last, and yet, you don't know how you've lasted this long without her against you. You don't know how you've managed to see her at work for two days, and not just pull her to you and kiss her. You don't know how (or if) you're still able to think rationally, as her kisses are so intoxicating, and taking you so high, it's doubtful you could ever come back down.

The only thing you do seem to know is that you can't stop. Not now. Not when her hand are winding into your hair, or you're gently pushing her down onto the bed behind her, or even when the smallest sign of guilt creeps over you. Not even the guilt can stop you, because it's not enough.

"Oh my god," the door opens abruptly, and the sound of a glass can be heard smashing on the hard floor.

Instantly, you and Nikki spring apart, as you get up, to allow Nikki to sit up, and adjust her dress, which has ridden up, making it even shorter than it already is. For it seems, the only thing that can make you stop is the one person you hadn't even thought about.

Isabel.

* * *

><p><strong>Ta-da. I hope this didn't disappoint, especially as I worked really hard to get this up quickly <strong>

**We're nearing the end now – only a couple of chapters left! Thanks to everyone who reviewed C7: socialitegirl, greyslostwho, KiwiSWFan, Decidedly Average, plume-en-sucre, pinkswallowsun and dinabar - Big hugs and marshmallows to you all!**

**And please keep reviewing Somebody That I Used To Know – it's a new format for me, and I really want to know if it's any good **

**Lots of love, Em xx**


	9. Chapter 9: Up All Night

_**Catch 22: Chapter 9 – Up All Night**_

_Hey, remember this fic? Yeah, me neither. It's really been that long. _

_Forgive me. Please. _

* * *

><p>"Isabel, it's not what it-"<p>

"Shut up," she whispers, staring at nothing in particular, seemingly not registering the glass around her ankles, as she crunches over it, and walks over to the pair of you. Not entirely sure of what Isabel's currently thinking, Harry subconsciously moves in front of you to shelter you from Isabel's glare, which is clearly making _everyone_ uncomfortable, as you shift from one foot to the other, adjusting your dress unnecessarily.

"This is our housewarming party," she states, as if she needs to remind him, "We're moving in together – we went to Ikea, for God's sake…we bought new cutlery, and cushions, and your toothbrush is next to mine-"

"I know," he replies, interrupting her ramble, although he sounds slightly more placating than he probably intends to, her eyes narrowing at him, as you groan internally at his choice of words, knowing he sounds a lot more like a conceited cheat rather than a concerned boyfriend.

"Well, if you know so much, what the hell are you doing kissing her?" she cries, gesturing at you in disgust, her face so close to his, you can almost see the fire in her eyes.

"I should go," you murmur suddenly, interjecting, skirting around Isabel and making for the door.

"You stay there," Isabel barks coldly at you, spinning on her heel, her bangles clinking on her wrist, "I'm not done with you yet."

"Look, this isn't my place," you sigh, trying to diffuse the situation, but to no avail.

"You're damn right it isn't," Isabel retorts, her eyes blazing as her hands place themselves onto her hips, a warning, a threat of territory, of authority over you, "Actually, you're right. I think you probably should go," she continues, her voice wavering, trying not to cry in front of her.

You move past Harry, grabbing your coat from the bed where you were just _doing things, _unable to even look at him, attempting to glide past him as coolly as possible, but when your arm accidentally brushes his, _dear god_, the clichés that fly through your head are endless. And yeah, it pretty much takes all the strength you can muster inside you not to turn back to look at him as you close the door behind you.

* * *

><p>You barely get five steps away from the door before Leo is right in front of you, a glass of champagne in one hand, and Janet's wrist in the other, presumably having tugged her upon seeing you.<p>

"What's going on?" he asks, glancing between you and the door, "I saw Isabel and it sounded like-"

"I'm going home, Leo," you shrug, ignoring him completely. If he's been listening at the door (and you're pretty sure he has), then he'll know everything already. You squeeze his arm gently, giving Janet a warm smile as you make your way to the door.

"Nikki," you hear Leo's voice calling you back, and you're determined not to stop, because frankly, you're tired, and you _really_ don't want to rake over this now, in _their_ new flat of all places. But then you feel his hand grab yours, forcing you to turn around, because you can't pretend that you didn't _hear_ him, or that you didn't _see_ him, because now you _are_ turning around, and you definitely _can_ see him, all pitying gaze and warmth, and there's _no way_ you're avoiding this conversation now.

"Come on, let's go home," Leo smiles at you, putting his arm around you, and walking you towards the door, "We can talk somewhere…quieter."

"What about Janet?" you sigh, exasperated, resting your hand on your hip.

"Janet doesn't mind," a comforting arm rubs your back, and you find that it belongs to Janet herself, as she moves around you and stops next to Leo, her kind gaze never leaving you.

"I don't want to intrude-"

"You're not," they reply simultaneously, and you barely have time to think up another excuse before they're pulling you out the door, both of them taking one arm each, as they haul you away from _them_.

* * *

><p>"Do you love her, Harry?"<p>

She pulls you out of your reverie, as you drag your eyes away from the second hand on the clock, hanging on the wall in front of you. You struggle to look at her directly, instead opting to focus on her with your peripheral vision; just able to make out her figure slouched at the end of the bed. You can tell she's looking at you now, and it takes so much effort to notlook at her.

"Harry," you hear her voice repeat your name, and you shake your head at her fiercely, as much as through dread as through guilt. You shouldn't be having this conversation with her. It's not right. This isn't fair. And yes, you know, life isn't fair, but she shouldn't be this damn _nice_ about it. She should be screaming, and shouting, and throwing glasses of champagne in your face, and smashing the vase you picked out together, and chucking his clothes out onto the street along with your suitcase and ripping up photos and taking back your key and just _something_-

Something other than her asking about Nikki.

"Harry, look at me," she says, louder, and this time, she's not asking anymore. She's not asking for anything complicated, not asking for a declaration of feelings for someone else, not asking for _anything_. But somehow, looking at her seems more difficult than anything else right now. Slowly, you sigh, your eyes coming to rest on her small frame, sitting at the very edge of the bed, heels discarded, and her jewellery lying next to her in a small gold pile. You see the tears that line her eyelashes, and you get a lump in your throat then, because _you know_, you just _know_ how hard this is for _her_, and you realise in that moment how much of an arse you really are. Both to Isabel and to Nikki.

"Do you love her?" she shrugs, indicating the sheer simplicity of her words. And if it was anyone else, they'd misinterpret that shrug as a mark of indifference, take it or leave it, as if she didn't really care what your answer was. But you know better. It's a shrug of resignation, because she already knows the answer. She's not challenging you, or testing you – she simply needs to hear it, for her own peace of mind.

"I'm sorry," you mutter into your chest, so quietly you're left wondering if you'd just imagined it. Her eyes well up with fresh tears as she nods fiercely, desperately trying to blink back tears, as you confirm what she knew long ago, "Isabel, I-"

"I know, Harry, okay? Just please spare me the platitudes," she says slowly, "Go after her."

"What?" you look up suddenly, unsure of what you've just heard.

"She loves you too," she smiles sadly, "And your heart wasn't ever in this, Harry, not really. Not whilst she was across the table from you, or across the room, or across our apartment. And you _love_ her."

You're left hesitating. She's telling you to go, and you can tell she's genuine; she really wants you to be happy. But she leaves you feeling idiotic. And completely and utter thoughtless.

"Harry, get out before I throw you out," she sighs, getting impatient now, rising from the bed to glare at you with greater authority, although she apparently can't help the slight quirk at the corner of her mouth.

"Maybe you should," you retort, "Throw me out, I mean. I deserve it," you grin.

"Oh, don't get me started on what you _deserve_, mister," she warns you, making you smile. It's almost like old times. Before you inadvertently ended up with feelings for Nikki, cheated on your girlfriend and consequently moved in with her. Her tone gives you enough hope that she'll be okay, and you nearly ask to remain friends, before reminding yourself not to push your luck.

"Come here, give me a hug," you opt to say instead, pulling her in for a bear hug, the first time you've actually really meant it, because damn it, she's a good person. She doesn't deserve any of this, and she's being too bloody gracious, and you love her and hate her for it all at once.

"I love you," she whispers, clutching at your shoulders tightly, burying herself in the crook of your neck.

"I know," you reply, equally quietly, and you're almost tempted to say it back, to make this situation regain a modicum of dignity for her. But you both know that wouldn't help anything, would give her false hope, would be the antidote to her very genuine declaration of love. And it's at that moment that you remember Nikki. Because replaying the word 'love' in your head over and over, well, it only makes you think of her.

"Isabel-"

"I know, Harry," she smiles sadly, clearly resigned to the outcome, as if it was predetermined before you even met her, inevitable, even, "You've got to go. To her."

And she knows where you're going, because, let's face it, your face gave you away before you even knew you were thinking about her. Thinking about kissing her, tracing your hand across the features on her cheek as you lie in bed, making her eyes crinkle with laughter as you tell her a god-awful joke over breakfast. A future, maybe, one day. Imagining her spare room eventually become a nursery, no longer used as your personal hotel when you're getting your flat blown up, or just falling asleep after a bad case, a bad movie and even worse wine.

You know this is unforgivable, because in all reality, you should be doing the adult thing. Talking things through with Isabel, deciding which stuff is _yours_ and which stuff is _hers_, organising when to pick up your stuff, giving back your key. But alas, no, you've decided to take the clichéd route. The one that would be more congruous in a romantic comedy. You know, with a dozen red roses, airports and rain. The quick kiss on the cheek for Isabel, the grabbing of your coat, the rushing out the door, and the running.

Running to Nikki.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, I'm not even going to excuse myself for this one. Because I'm utterly hopeless. Although, if I were to defend myself, it would probably be an equally clichéd reason pertaining to A-Levels, debate competitions, university open days and more A-Levels. Le sigh. <em>

_To the wonderful human beings who continue to review: Ela Plume-en-sucre, KiwiSWFan, dinabar, pinkswallowsun, tigersbride and charlieallcock. Hugs to you all. Especially because I don't deserve your loveliness. (And in Flossie's case, giant capital letters of fangirling. Muchos appreciated.)_

_Please scream at me if you see fit, or simply just take the gentler route and just review? _

_Em x_


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